


"The Art of Hoping"

by farad



Series: The Phoenix Series [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 3K Round-up Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Daybook prompt "Vin; any; he couldn't deny a mother protecting her cubs…".  </p><p>Post "Vendetta", part 4 of "The Phoenix Series"</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The Art of Hoping"

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the awesome Jojo for the beta - all mistakes my very own.

_“Patience is the art of hoping_.” -Marquis de Vauvenargues

  


The heat of the day was at its highest, the sun past the midpoint of the sky but the air holding the warmth close to the earth. Time of day people died, Vin thought as he scooped dirt out of the ground yet again. Another of that woman's boys was gone, despite Nathan's best efforts.

  


He was getting damned tired of digging holes in the ground and then putting the dirt back in 'em. Seemed like that was all he'd done for the past week, since Chris' father-in-law had come to town. What a damned mess.

  


But it was about the only time he saw Josiah any more; the man was tied up with that damned woman, that she-wolf of a mother who had chased down Hank Connelly, to avenge the murder of her oldest boy. In the end, it was costing her the lives of the other seven boys. They'd buried two of them – the one who loved his guns and the one who'd burned up in the wagon – the same day they'd buried Hank Connelly. The one who'd beat up JD went next, shot twice by JD and finally giving into the fever that he couldn't shake. That had been two days ago.

  


Today, they were burying the one who had pulled his ma out of the line of battle she had started, drawing her out of the way and calling out for them not to shoot her.

  


Seemed that it'd have been better all the way around if she'd been the one they'd shot first.

  


But that wasn't the way things were done, you didn't go and shoot women and children. Well, not unless they were Indians, but it was best he didn't dwell on that right now.

  


He dug some more, getting it about half done when a familiar voice said, “I was under the impression that we were paid to take care of the town, not bury it.”

  


Vin stopped and swiped at his forehead, brushing away the sweat. He pushed the shovel deep into the dirt so that it stood on its own and said, “You come to help?”

  


Ezra laughed, stepping close to the side of the grave. “Oh goodness, no, my friend. I do not dig graves – though I am curious as to why, exactly, you are. I thought that Mr. Wallander paid his men for that particular dirty work. Pun intended.”

  


“Hand my my canteen?” Vin asked, pointing toward one of the few pieces of shade in the area, under a tree several yards away.

  


Ezra looked at it, stood for a time as if he were considering whether or not to do it, but just as Vin was getting ready to climb out of the whole and fetch it himself, Ezra walked the short distance, picked up the canteen and came back to the grave site. As he extended the canteen, he said, “How many has she lost now?”

  


Vin pulled the cork from the canteen and took a long drink of water. It was warm but not yet hot. Hopefully, he'd be through with this before it had the chance to heat up any more.

  


After he swallowed, he said, “Think this is the fourth one. Be glad when the others get better and get the hell out of here.”

  


“As will we all, I assure you. It's as if the spectre of death is living in this town. Hardly anyone is out and about any more – I am barely managing to keep my head above water.”

  


Vin grinned, finding Ezra's complaining entertaining as always. “Nobody to cheat out of their hard-earned money?”

  


“It's a veritable ghost town,” Ezra said, his tone turning sour. “Even our own people are noticeably absent.”

  


He was trying to make light, but Vin heard the tone of bitterness, and he understood it. Chris was hiding out at his place – well, not hiding out so much as grieving, though Vin knew Chris didn't see it that way. Chris saw it as avoiding the woman who had had his father-in-law killed, who had caused Josiah to be hurt – though it was more a flesh wound – as well as JD, and indirectly, Buck. She had also caused the town a lot of money, as most of the buildings on the main road had been shot up and things destroyed.

  


But Hank Connelly had been one of Chris' last connections with the wife and child he had lost, and he was mourning them all over again. What was worse was that he was keeping his distance from the rest of them, the people he had come to care about in the year or more since they had been asked by the Judge to protect this town. He was avoiding them all, which included Buck, who had been there through the marriage, but it also included Ezra, who – well, who had become someone a little more special to Chris over the last few months.

  


And that was what was more upsetting to Ezra. Chris was putting distance between them.

  


“Reckon we gonna have more than enough real ghosts here for a time,” he said, corking his water bottle and tossing it into a corner of the grave. The dirt this far down was cooler and he had a few more feet to go before he was finished. “And based on your own tales, these ghosts have money.”

  


“But their living relatives are convinced that drinking and gambling are sins,” Ezra said with a sigh. He turned, looking across the cemetery and down the road.

  


Toward Chris' place.

  


Vin picked up the shovel and got back to it, putting his back into it. He was damned tired of this, and ready for a beer and something better than all this death.

  


Eventually, Ezra shook his head and turned back. “You didn't answer me as to why you're the one doing this.”

  


Vin kept working, though he did stop long enough to once more wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Undertaker's boys are needed to help with all that stuff having to do with the body. Mr. Wallander told me he'd pay me some extra for helping out, and J'siah asked if I'd pitch in.”

  


Ezra glanced toward the church and for a second, Vin thought he had something to say about that. But after a spell, he simply shrugged. “You are doing far too much work for what I suspect they are paying you. If you survive this heat, I will stand you a beer when you make your way to the tavern.”

  


“Things so bad you're going after what little extra I'm getting?” Vin grinned as he got back to shoveling.

  


“You have no idea,” Ezra muttered as he walked away.

  


About an hour later, as the heat began to wane, Vin stood on the side of the cemetery and watched Josiah, dressed in his preaching robe and holding his big Bible, saying the prayers for the boy who'd died today. The Nichols woman was there, tears dripping down her cheeks, though Vin figured she'd be about out of them by now. The two boys who could stand upright were with her, the one who wasn't hurting – the one who'd shot Hank Connelly – actually helping her to stand.

  


Nettie Wells, Mary Travis, and Gloria Potter were there also, good women who could see past the troubles with this woman. Vin reckoned that what they saw was a woman losing her children, and seeing all the effort these women were going through to take care of their own, they were standing in support of that. And in support of the dead, seeing as how they were, well, dead.

 

The preaching seemed to go on for a long time – as they all did, and Vin recalled that this was a Catholic ceremony, not one of the ones he had grown up with, where they put the body in the ground, told people some about hell and why you wanted to live a good life, said a few prayers for the dead in hopes they weren't in Hell, then went back to the church and had fried chicken and biscuits.

  


This one had prayer after prayer, many of them in Latin, or so Josiah had explained, and while Vin didn't understand not one word, there was something soothing about listening to Josiah speaking in that strange tongue, the sounds rolling right out of him, clear and warm and natural.

  


And there was something about watching him standing there, moving one hand back and forth to make the cross, sometimes kissing his fingers then making the cross over his own body.

  


Josiah loved what he did. He loved what he believed. His problem was that what he believed didn't line up with what he thought he should believe. But he loved trying to help people to see his way of thinking, and Vin wouldn't have stood in the way of that for anything. Not even for clearing his name. Not even for having Eli Joe back alive.

  


Not even for never spending another night with the man, warm against him, comforted by his big body and his easy affection. Vin knew that what was between them was a problem for Josiah; Vin's own mind was settled about it, but what Josiah thought about it himself was at odds with what his religion preached. And like Chris, sometimes, like now, Josiah had to put some space between them to find out what was the past and what was now.

  


Josiah made the big sign of the cross over the grave and the boy with two hurt arms leaned down and threw some dirt on the coffin. Mary, Nettie, and Gloria looked at each other then nodded toward the Nichols woman, who didn't see to see them – but then, she hadn't seen them at any of these funerals. Josiah, though, he stepped over to them and spoke soft, too soft for Vin to hear, and he reckoned that Josiah was thanking them for coming.

  


The women smiled at Josiah, and Gloria put a hand on his arm, a gesture that made Vin look away. He knew the widow had come to rely on Josiah, and he knew that Josiah had a soft spot for her. She was a good woman, struggling to raise her kids alone and in a hard world. Vin had taken to stopping by and talking with Daniel when he could, helping the boy with things he new something about, like splitting wood and tending the animals, and generally doing chores that needed to be done. He tried to convince himself that he was doing it to be helpful, and in truth, he did like the boy. But he knew that the real reason he did it was to keep Josiah out of here. The last thing he wanted was for Josiah to feel anymore needed than he did.

  


Especially for a woman.

  


Reckon that was a lot of what Ezra was feeling right now.

  


He looked back to see Josiah walking toward him while Gloria, Nettie, and Mary followed the Nichols woman and her sons from the cemetery. “Thanks for the help,” Josiah said, coming up close to Vin. “Had to be tiring, in this heat.” Up close, Josiah looked tired, the lines of his face deeper than usual.

  


“Reckon we're all getting tired,” Vin said, meaning it in a different way. “You getting any sleep?”

  


Josiah shrugged, looking toward the group of people leaving the cemetery. “More than the Nichols are. More than Nathan is.”

  


Vin sighed. “Need to eat,” he said. “Inez is cooking up enchiladas tonight.”

  


But Josiah was shaking his head. “I promised Gloria I'd stop by the Potters for dinner. Mary, Nettie, Casey, JD, Nathan, and the children will be there. They've invited the Nichols to join though I suspect that they will not – which makes it even more important that I be there. They've done so very much for the Nichols and they've gotten so little in return.” He dropped a hand on Vin's shoulder and squeezed, the closest he would come to showing the things between them outside of the church or the boarding house. “You can come, too – I know Nettie would be pleased to see you-”

  


“Nah,” Vin said, reluctantly drawing away. “Reckon I need to check on the rest of the town. Chris ain't been back and Buck's been out there the past couple of days. Ezra and JD are getting a little worn down and if JD's having dinner with y'all – well, best I keep an eye on the things since I know Ezra's got some things on his mind.”

  


Josiah sighed. “Nathan thinks that things should get easier now. The others are healing okay and he's hoping they'll be able to travel in a few days. Looks like we might get things back to normal then – or at least start to.” He glanced toward the end of town, the road that led to Chris' place.

  


Vin shrugged. “Hope you're right.” He started forward, pleased when Josiah fell in beside him. “Be glad to get things back to the way they were. Hope you want that, too.”

  


Josiah made a noise but Vin wasn't sure what it meant, so it was nice when Josiah said, “I can't think of anything I want more, my friend. I miss the way things were before this whole thing happened.”

  


Once more, his hand reached out, dropping on Vin's shoulder, and it was more a comfort than the words. Especially as it stayed there until they reached the gate that set the cemetery off from the rest of the town.

  


They walked in silence until they reached the main part of the town, where the boardwalk started. Then Josiah slowed and Vin slowed with him. “You can come,” Josiah said.

  


Vin shook his had, but he smiled. “Ain't had a bath or cleaned up in a while. Ain't fit for polite company.”

  


Josiah grinned, his big teeth showing. “That tends to be when I like you best.” The words were quiet, so low that Vin wasn't sure he actually heard them. But the smile was one he knew well. One he missed.

  


He watched as Josiah walked away, toward the Potters' home. The house was lit up, and through the windows, he could see people moving around. He saw Nathan walking slowly toward the house, well ahead of Josiah, and he knew Nathan deserved this time with all of them, Josiah 'specially. Josiah was Nathan's closest friend here, and the two men had an understanding that Vin respected.

  


He turned and made his way toward the saloon. It was still early enough that the place wasn't crowded, though there were enough people to let him know that Inez's cooking was making a name for itself. He walked to the bar, nodding to a few of the people along the way, and stood while Dan, the bartender, served a few beers. He noted that Ezra was sitting alone at a table toward the back. He was, as always, turning over his cards, and a bottle sat nearby.

  


“What can I getcha?” Dan asked finally, and Vin ordered a beer and dinner and pointed toward Ezra's table as he threw some coins on the bar top.

  


He made his way to the back, setting his beer down on the table and pulling out a chair as he said, “Reckon we ain't heard from Chris or Buck, huh.”

  


“Whyever in the world would they communicate with us? They have their own concerns that far outweigh the issues of the town that they are paid to protect.”

  


The bitterness in his voice was so sharp that Vin caught his breath and stopped moving. But just for a moment; he dropped into the chair, sipped from his beer, then said, “Guess it means they trust us to handle things. And since it's just you and me tonight, hope they're right.”

  


Ezra looked up from his cards, his expression not friendly. “Unlike you, Mr. Tanner, I have no interest in all this extra work – for which, I might add, we are not getting any compensation.” He tossed a few more cards on the table, the force behind them strong enough that there were the sound of slaps as the cardboard hit other cardboard.

  


Vin sipped on his beer then dug into his dinner when Dan brought it over, letting Ezra take out his problem on the cards for a while. Eventually, when the game was over and Ezra had started another, and the sound of cards hitting each other was harder to hear, Vin pushed back his empty plate and said, “J'siah thinks they'll be gone in a couple of days. Says the others are getting better and that with some luck, we'll see their backsides soon.”

  


Ezra drew a breath. He still flipped the cards but it was slower now. “While that will be a welcome relief, I wonder if it is already too late for this town to recover.”

  


Vin looked at him, thinking on his words. It didn't take him long to suss out that it wasn't the town Ezra was talking about. “Figured Buck would be back by now,” he said.

  


“Perhaps he has shown more wisdom than the likes of us and abandoned this burg for more amiable locales.” Ezra didn't look up from his game but his voice was softer. Sadder.

  


“Maybe Chris shot him,” Vin countered, and he was rewarded with a slight twitch at the corners of Ezra's lips.

  


“I would most certainly not take odds on that,” Ezra said, and though his voice was still quiet, it was a little less sad.

  


“Reckon Chris will work his way out of it,” Vin said. “Might take some thinking though – lot to have to put to rest there.”

  


“I imagine that there is, what with being asked for help by someone you loathe, then reconciling to that person, then finding that person is not in his right mind – one would question everything one thought one knew of that person.” Ezra frowned, staring at the cards, then he dropped the ones he had in his hand onto the spread and sat back, picking up his drink.

  


Vin looked at him and shook his head. “Sara's pa. Family. He's got to put his ghosts to rest. Again.”

  


Ezra drank down the rest of what was in his glass and stood. “Another?” he asked, waving toward Vin's almost empty beer mug. “I did say that I would stand you one.”

  


“Appreciate it,” Vin said. As he watched Ezra walk away, he thought about Chris. It'd taken a while for him to get his head around what Chris had done at first, riding away from Hank Connelly after the old man had asked him for help.

  


Probably took longer for Ezra to figure out why Chris'd gone back to help – and then why they'd all gotten tangled up in this mess, and why Chris wasn't thankful it was all over.

  


And, like himself, he figured Ezra wasn't too keen on all the reminders of things women made a man feel.

  


Ezra set a full beer in front of him then sat back down, gathering up his cards. “Do you ever consider leaving? Just packing up and going?”

  


Vin shrugged. “Thought about it from time to time. Right after Eli Joe was killed – well, I still got to clear up all that in Texas. Judge is working on it, talking to Yates. Reckon I'll see how that works out.”

  


“So you're not thinking about it now? What if. . .” He shuffled the deck, dealing out a hand for Vin and for himself. “What if something that was keeping you here suddenly – well, disappeared?”

  


Vin looked at his cards, letting the words wander around in his head. The cards were crap as they usually were when Ezra dealt, but he didn't really care. “You mean,” he said, “like if the jail disappeared? Or the livery?”

  


Ezra looked up at him, frowning. He put his cards face down on the table and picked up the deck. “Forget I asked. How many cards would you care to surrender?”

  


Vin tossed down three and Ezra dealt him three more. As he looked at them, he said more softly, “Reckon that's part of why I didn't just pick up and leave after Eli Joe was killed. I got – something – that's got a hold on me. Don't know how long it's gonna last – right now, with that Nichols woman taking up so much of everybody's attention, I ain't even sure if it's still - holding.”

  


Ezra had been moving his cards around as he was want to do, but he looked up, meeting Vin's gaze. “So – what are you going to do?”

  


Vin shrugged. “Reckon I'll wait for a spell, at least 'til the Nichols leave. Then see the lay of the land. Don't figure it'll hurt to wait and see instead of making assumptions. Some things need time.”

  


Ezra sighed. He set out a pair of jacks and an ace as he said, “You are a far more patient man than I, Mr. Tanner. I am not as certain that the things holding me here are as likely to desire that power, given the current complexities of – well, everything.”

  


Before Vin could answer, a voice called out, “Whooeee – ain't you a sight for sore eyes!”

  


“Ah,” Ezra said, waving a hand towards Vin's cards as he said, “I gather that Inez has come in from the kitchen.”

  


Vin laid his cards on the table: two pair. “Funny how I always get good hands when we ain't betting,” he said, grinning a little.

  


“Better than never, I suppose,” Ezra countered, collecting the cards. He shuffled a few times, then he dealt out three hands. It was timely, as Buck arrived, a mug of beer in one hand that was already half gone.

  


“Never thought I'd be so glad to get back this place,” he said, settling into the chair between Vin and Ezra. “I missed the beer.”

  


“And Chris drank all the whiskey,” Vin said, more a question than a comment.

  


Buck shook his head, his grin sliding a little – but not going away. Vin took that as a better sign than the words that followed. “He did do some damage to the territorial supply, but not as bad as I expected. Reckon we'll see him wander into town in a day or so.”

  


Vin glanced to Ezra, noting that he was watching Buck close, as if Buck were holding the key to the world. Then again, for Ezra, Buck probably was, right now, anyway.

  


Ezra's jaw moved, as if he were trying to say something, but the words seemed stuck in his craw. Vin didn't think on it too much – hell, he'd want someone to do the same for him, when the time came. “Why you think that?” he asked, picking up his cards. More crap, but he figured his next draw would be good, a reward for asking what Ezra didn't seem to be able to ask.

  


“'Cause he said so,” Buck said, picking up his own cards. “Hell, Ezra, I didn't miss this, that's for damned sure.” But he didn't throw the hand down. Instead, he took a long pull on his beer, downing half of what was in it.

  


“Cards?” Ezra asked, looking across the table at Vin.

  


To test his idea, Vin looked to Buck and said, “You believe Chris? Or was he just saying that so we'd all leave him alone for a few more days.”

  


Buck chuckled, sorting through his cards. “You know Chris well as I do, Vin. That's a possibility. But I think he's doing okay, all things considered. He told me that he was forgetting them – that was the night we spent on the trail with Hank, while you were keeping watch on the Nichols boys. He wasn't none too happy about that, but we spent a long time talking – hell, we rode over toward Eagle Bend, the old house.”

  


“To the graves?” Ezra asked, looking at Buck even as he waved a hand to Vin.

  


Vin tossed down three cards and though Ezra was still looking at Buck, he dealt three to Vin.

  


“Yep,” Buck said, also tossing down three. “He didn't try to tear them apart this time, which is a good thing. He took that cloth of Hank's with us – you know, the one Hank was making the knots in?”

  


“Saw that,” Vin said. “Reckoned he was keeping memories.” He picked up the three new cards, pleased to find he'd been right; there was a pair of jacks in them and a king, which gave him two pair, since he'd kept the king from the first set. He wondered what he'd get if he got Buck to say more about Chris.

  


“Must've been,” Buck agreed. “Last thing Hank said to Chris was not to forget. Chris promised he wouldn't.” His voice was softer, now, more sad. He drank down more of his beer before picking up his new cards.

  


“So why did he take Hank's cloth?” Vin asked, confused. “Reckoned he'd keep that.”

  


Buck looked up from his cards and met Vin's gaze. He opened his mouth, then he stopped, thinking for a second and his gaze slid a little toward Ezra. When he spoke, his tone was still gentle but the pitch was a little louder. “He thought about it, for a long while. But he decided that Sara deserved to know about her pa and to know that Hank's last thoughts was of her. He tied the cloth 'round her cross. It was hard for him, but he told me he had to do it. Said it was time to think about letting it go. Sara would want him to be happy, and to go on living. To find someone who made him happy.” He took a deep breath, nodded once, then he looked at Ezra. “You ain't got no better since I left – damn good thing we ain't betting.” He grinned at that, and Ezra did, too.

  


“Just warming up,” Ezra said, but he was still grinning, his gold tooth flashing. “The dealer takes one,” he said, drawing a card off the top of the deck and dropping it on the four cards he'd kept.

  


“Trying to draw to a straight?” Buck asked, shaking his head. “Anybody else'd know better – but since you're the dealer . . .”

  


“Are you suggesting that I have some preternatural knowledge of the deck?” Ezra asked, raising both eyebrows and sounding like he was insulted.

  


“Hell no,” Buck answered with a laugh. “I'm saying that you're stacking the deck.” He tossed his cards in, and got to his feet. “This hand ain't worth the cost of the cards. I gotta get another beer.”

  


He moved off toward the bar, and Vin dropped his cards face up on the table.

  


Ezra didn't bother to look at them, or to show his own hand. “Well done, sir,” he said, gathering the cards together and shuffling anew.

  


“Would I have won if we'd been betting?” Vin asked, taking a sip of his own beer.

  


“There are many factors to take into account there, so I can hardly say.” But he smiled, still shuffling the cards. It was a different smile from the ones before, and Vin smiled back.

  


“So you packing up and leaving in the morning?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

  


Ezra patted the deck back together, then broke it in two to shuffle again. “I suspect I shall bide my time a while longer,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching almost to a grin. “Perhaps your counsel is wise and it is best to practice the fine art of patience.”

  


Vin did grin, happy for Ezra, though it did make him more aware of his own situation.

  


Ezra finished shuffling and began to deal as Buck arrived back at the table. “Might want to deal a few more hands,” he said, dropping back into his chair. “Josiah and Nathan are on their way in. As we ain't gambling, they might want to practice a little too.”

  


Vin looked up in time to see Josiah push through the saloon doors, Nathan behind him. A few steps in, they stopped and looked around, until Josiah saw them at the table. His gaze caught Vin's and he smiled.

  


“Who said we weren't gambling?” Ezra said, dealing out five hands. When he set the deck on the table, he reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a handful of coins. “A penny ante, shall we say? I'm feeling lucky.”

  


As Josiah and Nathan moved toward the bar, Vin looked at Ezra and grinned. Reaching into his own pockets, he pulled out some coins and dropped a penny into the center of the table. “Reckon I am, too.”


End file.
